When I was a scout leader we often used to visit the Dale in February. On one such visit, everywhere was covered in snow. The river was running high, so we crossed by the bridge at the foot of Thorpe Cloud. Icicles hung from the rocks, and the little paths up the steep slopes were too slippery to use in safety.
Eventually we found a roundabout way upwards through wind-blown drifts, coming out on the edge of a broad stretch of spotless untrodden snow, which, although there was no sun, dazzled the eye. Up here, we felt totally detached from the rest of the world.
This was really only a flying visit. We left Derby mid-morning and were back well before tea. But it achieved its purpose with everybody longing for more. We were on the move all the time, but were never more than a mile from the car park, and during all this period we met not a single soul.
Shelton Lock, Derby